


give me good love, monster

by trustmeallnight



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Baekho's Twisted Love, Baekho/JR, Baekho/Minhyun - Freeform, Baekho/Ren, Blood and Violence, Character Deaths, Late Halloween, M/M, Mild Smut, and Wolf bark, for one of them, it works out in the end, its a game in a way methinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustmeallnight/pseuds/trustmeallnight
Summary: “Even eternity can’t ever take you away from me.”
Relationships: Kang Dongho | Baekho/Aaron Kwak | Aron
Comments: 16
Kudos: 21





	1. 1-0

**Author's Note:**

> well well well look who's late to the party ... me 
> 
> this was supposed to be for halloween but looky me :)
> 
> the tags do look a bit heavy but like.. look the happy couple is very much satisfied no one else matters (because they die btw.. they fucking die its in the tags so please dont yell at me)
> 
> also if you think it needs more tags tell me so i can change accordingly :)
> 
> WHOOP WHOOP

_“I’m yours, right?”_

_Dongho wiggles further into the embrace. He’s big, broad, dark eyes intimidating, and yet he burrows into a cold chest and hopes to stay there for centuries._

_He hums in agreement, starts stroking down Dongho’s back, and smiles as his chin lightly settles on the crown of Dongho’s head._

_“For as long as you live,” he says with a soft kiss._

_“How about,” Dongho sniffs, and he hides his nose and blushing cheeks underneath a denim jacket, “forever?”_

* * *

Choi Mingi likes them dumb. 

Gullible.

Easy to lure and even easier to hide after he’s done with them. Since he’s so young, not yet tainted from the at times overwhelming thirst, it’s a game. 

The cat is ravenous tonight, fangs glinting under the red lights as it searches for delectable prey.

When he spots Dongho, Mingi smiles, giddy, and invites the attractive, broad shouldered man up to the highest floor. 

It’s silent in the red velvet covered room, void of noisy electronic music and conversation yet still retaining the low thump of a bass under a padded floor. Only a guard stands by the door, eyeing Mingi who slinks up the stairs with a tipsy Dongho clambering up behind him.

Mingi slips past the door, the guard, and throws Dongho onto the couch.

“Having fun, handsome?”

The lithe body climbs up onto Dongho’s lap and inhales the air. Mingi shudders as the scent of alcohol mixes with warming skin right under Dongho’s collar.

Dongho nods with bleary eyes. When Mingi runs a hot tongue over his jaw, he groans and tilts his head back.

“You drink too,” Dongho slurs. 

His hands come up to rest on Mingi’s jutting hip bones. They’re delicate, protruding enough for Dongho to roughly squeeze and pull towards him.

“Sure,” Mingi smirks. 

He slides off of Dongho with two movements, snatching up the full shot glass and pressing it against his lips. Red lipstick, vibrant and saturated, transfers onto the glass as Mingi watches Dongho roll pliant hips in the air, aroused and breath heady with want.

The alcohol sloshes around in Dongho’s veins, opening up thin blood streams and pumping it like a strong dam around his delicious body. Dongho’s neck, red and straining, stretches, and thick strings of muscle present like ribbons around that golden pillar. 

Mingi can almost smell the rich scent of metal that runs in laps. The scentless drink still and flat in the glass doesn’t make his mouth water; it’s the red flush crawling up the man’s chest from his open collar to the tips of his pierced ears. 

Mingi grins wide.

“Cheers, baby. Thanks for the meal,” he chirps before downing the shot in one swallow.

It immediately hits him before reaching his stomach.

_“Fuck—“_

There’s a large crash as the low table Mingi sits on is kicked upwards, sending his body onto the floor with it. The shot glass rolls forwards, up until it clicks against Dongho’s midnight black dress shoes as he stands over Mingi.

Mingi, who coils back from the fall and the painful burn lining his throat, darts his large, doe eyes up to Dongho. Even when his lungs beg him to cough out the squeezing sensation trapping his chest in a vice tight grip, and glass digs into his forearms, he keeps fearful, terrified eyes on the man.

“Cheers,” Dongho replies, cheeks still red and warm, and he picks up the glass, rolling it around before dipping his tongue along the rim. “Strong, right?”

Mingi’s throat is closed by now, the tiniest of coughs making it past his smeared lips. Drool drips down his chin, and as he helplessly fists the carpet, he can’t help but hiss when the cursed water finally settles deep in his stomach.

_“Fuck you—“_

“Shut up.” 

Dongho tilts his head before pressing a heel against Mingi’s chest, pinning the man to the ground as he writhes and coughs his throat raw. He grinds his shoe, watching as Mingi silently growls as the cross carved onto the sole sears flesh and etches the messy symbol onto flawless, pale skin.

Mingi struggles the more Dongho stares, and at a point, he frowns as the vampire becomes weaker. He doesn’t cough anymore, lungs as constricted as they can be, and now only soft wheezing can be heard. The nauseating scent of seared skin fizzles down as Dongho removes his foot.

He sighs. 

“Runt.”

With just a tiny flash of red eyes and a thin pupil, Mingi reaches up to slash at Dongho’s face. Except he doesn’t make it, barely able to reach a cheek.

The river of blood that streams down the sides of Mingi’s neck flows like a spout and onto the red carpet, seeping around his head. He’s stopped struggling now, his chest a still board that echoes his lifeless eyes. 

“Leave a mess, sure,” Dongho hisses, kicking Mingi’s limp hand and holding his stained blade up.

“You could’ve called me.”

Wonwoo enters with a silent swipe of the red curtains. 

He takes Dongho’s blade and wipes it with a clean sweep of a navy handkerchief, and now the glint of silver dances against the ceiling light. 

“I could’ve. But where’s the message in that?”

The guard is left behind to deal with a torn vampire limp and messy on the floor. There’s no cleaning up the mess from the carpet, even though it’s red that stains red, and odorless blood carries no scent. 

Wonwoo watches Dongho walk off with high shoulders and cradles the body in his arms before creeping down the dark exit.

  
  



	2. 2-0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woof woof bark bark

Minhyun is different. 

Not characteristically, no. Hwang Minhyun is as greedy as the immature one was, maybe even greedier, flashier. Both pretty, both shining under so many gazes that admire and blindly follow.

Fundamentally, however, Minhyun is a challenge that diverts from the too gullible young vampire. 

“My blade?” Dongho shrinks back as Wonwoo grabs at the sharp silver. 

They both nick their fingers on the impossibly thin edge, cursing as Dongho still doesn’t let go and Wonwoo still doesn’t cease grabbing at it.

“He’ll smell it,” Wonwoo says, voice tight as he glances at the apartment building. 

It’s dark outside, the street lamps having been shut off to conceal, and it’s hard to glance over the steering wheel, but there is Minhyun’s home. 

“But it’s mine.”

“And I toldyou,” Wonwoo emphasizes harshly, taking the Dongho’s flinched stature as a chance to take the blade for himself, “you can’t risk it.” He pockets the knife in the leather cover, only breathing out in a quick rush as the neat etched cross marks his skin red. “Just use it, hyung.”

Dongho clicks his tongue before opening the car door, the slam of it echoing in the empty parking lot before heading up towards the golden doors.

* * *

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Dongho smiles. The hand on his back is quick to find the dip in his spine, resting there like he’s a firm couch. “Nice place.”

He’s not lying in that sense. The apartment is huge for such a compact building, wide and spacious where Dongho’s was only fit enough for at most two people. White walls, a beige floor, and hundreds of square feet of space make room for simple, sparse furniture. It’s almost a showroom, except touches of books and trinkets point to Minhyun’s taste. His mouth quirks amusingly at the large orange plushie sitting dormant on the couch.

If Minhyun wasn’t sniffing so obvious to his shoulder, the hunter would’ve liked to think this was a nice date at his cozy home. 

(Even if it isa date to Minhyun, Dongho would rather jump out of the building and onto the hood of Wonwoo’s precious car.)

“Thanks,” Minhyun grins as they reach the kitchen, a small dinner table already plated with food placed right on the edge of the room. “Hungry?” 

He noses at a stray tussle of hair poking out from Dongho’s otherwise neatly styled head. 

“For dinner?” Dongho leans back, pressing Minhyun’s nose into his hair and letting the man sniff at the strawberry scented product. 

Minhyun growls, rumbling throughout his chest as the sweet scent travels up his nose. He’s not fervent for it, but it wets his tongue, and he slips a sure hand around Dongho’s waist and palms his stomach.

“Dessert, if you’re willing,” Minhyun whispers.

“And if I’m not?”

Minhyun laughs, slipping his hand out and trailing off to the fragrant smelling kitchen.

“I’m sure I can convince you.”

* * *

Dinner’s uneventful in both of their eyes.

Minhyun simply picks at his steaming plate, red steak and plump potatoes left uneaten as he watches Dongho throughout their time. 

He only notes how the human is too beautiful. 

Fat cheeks bulge with food, long fingers bend whichever way as he moves bronze utensils, and with each swallow of a thick Adam’s apple, Minhyun can almost feel the fat begin to store in that tiny stomach.

It passes by a bit too quickly as Minhyun blatantly stares. The clatter of knife and fork against porcelain is loud, the scrape of a chair even louder as Minhyun inhales through a parted mouth. The quiet slurp of saliva rolling down his throat feels full, a silent heed to the space that begins to grow between them.

When Dongho stands up, Minhyun’s heart picks up. A hand trails along his shoulder, lingering fingers leaving only when Dongho’s voice travels like a blossom in the wind past the dining table.

“Should I get going now?” 

Dongho’s dragging his coat off of the hook, arms slowly slipping into the pockets as he watches the back of Minhyun’s unmoving head.

It slightly hangs, the fresh blond a bright bloom in the kitchen. 

Dongho can’t see it, but he’s sure.

“You won’t be leaving when I’m done with you, baby,” Minhyun says, sure and simple with a lick of his canines. 

From the empty seat in front of him, the barely seared steak almost drips with his own drool as human flesh and pine cologne rests like a blanket over the table. Minhyun’s hands wiggle impatiently in his lip, fidgeting awkwardly as claws subconsciously dart out and dig into his thighs. He wants to dig in already, wants to _eat_ until he’s satisfied and full of the forest and sweet, gushing berries.

It’s been so fucking long, Minhyun pants, strawberry red sliding down his screen of eyes, practically forever since he was allowed to indulge. Full moons passing by with just cups of blood and chunks of pig, as if he was some common dog, isn’t enough. Fresh springs and evergreen trees, though, that’d be more refreshing than the deadly strong waters of the Niagara.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Dongoh says, voice bouncing closer with every slow second, “puppy.”

Minhyun’s strawberry walks with a light step, only the rustling of his thin clothes sounding behind Minhyun, and the wolf smiles. 

_Thanks for the meal,_ and his canines bare as he stares at the white refrigerator in front of them, anticipating as the human comes closer, closer into arm’s reach—

The harsh click of metal comes first before the cold sensation hits the back of Minhyun’s head. 

If Minhyun was smiling in glee for his greedy, insatiable hunger, Dongho is absolutely giddy in the full body shudder that travels down such a long body.

“Dong—“

And before the crazed wolf can fully turn around and stand up, Minhyun drops back down to the floor with a neat red target decorating his forehead. The silver bullet lodges deep inside, the sulfur lined on the metal lifting easily and poisoning within its burrowing reach.

The hunter stands over the fallen werewolf, gun still aimed at a barely twitching figure. Red splatters against his shirt, his fingers, tickles at his cheek, and he wipes furiously at them. 

_“Again?”_

The once pristine, shining silver weapon is roughly shoved into his belt, smearing even more warm blood onto Dongho’s clothes. 

Unlike Mingi, whose death messily stained the club’s carpet darker than the deepest wine, he finds Minhyun’s wipes easier from the hardwood floor. 

When Wonwoo is called up to the fifth floor, gloves and bleach in hand, they both haul the body into the bag and scrub until their fingers are pinker than the bruise on Dongho’s hip.

“Had fun with this one?” Wonwoo eyes the small patch of skin peeking out from an untucked shirt.

“With a mutt?” Dongho scoffs. “He was posturing the moment I stepped past the door. He only gave _this—“_ he points to the large print, a bloom of colors that constraints horrifically in his opinion, “—because you took my knife.

Wonwoo shakes his head as he throws the dirty gloves into the trash. He fishes out the leather cover, more care being shown as he grips the clean edge, before handing it to Dongho who accepts it with a grateful thanks.

“Wolf, hyung.”

Dongho kicks at the large bag, frowning as it limply rolls.

  
  



	3. 3-0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big reveals methinks

When Dongho first meets Jonghyun, it’s with a large counter wedged between them as he lists out his order like the cafe’s the auction of the year.

“—and a medium Americano to finish.”

“Of course, sir,” Jonghyun smiles, still bright despite it being the middle of the day already four hours into his shift, and rings Dongho up.

No one could even tell. 

Dongho could, of course, because who really forgets the crumpled photograph stashed in the corner of their desk that becomes committed to memory with every sleepless night just _waiting_ for the end to near.

Jonghyun’s charming, friendly when backed into a corner (except that’s rare, it’s always him backing people up and giving a show stopping grin as he doles out dizzying nights). He’s not Mingi who would easily invite anyone with just a hint of confusion and bewilderment in their eyes, nor Minhyun who was too lucid and starved to use the metal crushing strength he was gifted with. 

Dongho curses as he once again loses Jonghyun’s oddly swift body. Even with the streetlamps bright and glaring down at the paved streets, and Jonghyun’s big fucking back could act as easy target practice for Wonwoo’s aimless skills, Dongho still manages to lose him.

“Why is this so fucking hard?” Dongho groans into the receiver pressed right against his ear. 

“He’s smarter, hyung,” Wonwoo’s voice crackles out through the speaker, the young man sleepy over the phone as Dongho complains to him in the middle of the night. “Have you tried visiting the club near him?”

Dongho sighs before turning on the engine with a twist of his key.

“He really does just fuck them and leave,” he says. 

Just when Dongho would inch around the corner of the alley behind the empty building a few steps away from the pulsing nightclub, hand gripped tightly on the hilt of his blade, and he expects a delirious, feasting monster, it’s merely Kim Jonghyun with his head thrown back and groaning in bliss as he’s sucked off. He even gets a little skittish whenever Jonghyun sucks twin bruises on the pick of the night, but when he unscrews the flask of blessed water, the partner whines in desperation and begs for more— still alive, breathing in pleasure for the handsome man.

It’s more annoying than anything. Dongho’s never been the voyeuristic type.

“You’ll figure it out,” Wonwoo replies. His eyes are starting to droop now, and lax fingers almost drop the phone as he turns off the lamp by his bed. When his thin hand hangs on the metal chain, though, he hesitates. “Hyung.”

“Mm?” 

Dongho turns out of the parking spot, the unknown neighborhood left behind as he returns back another night without a single clue about the too friendly, too quick Jonghyun.

Kim Jonghyun and Jeon Wonwoo, Dongho feels, are one and the same: frustratingly intelligent, stupidly devoted. Dongho at least has a crushing purpose; they’re the dogs that clamber after heels, raising vulnerable bellies up even in the face of a glint of a sharp blade.

“Wonwoo-ah,” Dongho breathes slowly, butterflies crawling deep through his nerves as he takes it all in, the final piece to what he’s been grabbing at for so long, “this is it.”

Wonwoo hums, bleary and barely able to understand, before hanging up. He’s asleep in minutes.

And Dongho, he sits in the parking lot of their apartment building alone. A grin spreads over his face as he hums a slow, sweet ballad that plays along to the bright screen of the radio.

* * *

It takes a while for Jonghyun to be lured into bed, even with all of his nocturnal, carnal pleasures.

When Wonwoo bumps into the elder under the boom of a heavy bass and a spare handful of spotlights, he slips a hand into his human’s back pocket and pulls Dongho forward to cage Jonghyun in.

It’s slow, long, a process that drags into the late night as they whisper sweet promises into Jonghyun’s ear. Dongho teases at a red lobe, hints of a cherry red tongue peeking out to line the sensitive shell of cold skin.

It’s between the thumping beat and the slow trail of a hand up Jonghyun’s bare back that he follows them home, a grin set on his face and wide set shoulders square as the door shuts. 

Smart, sure, but a glutton in the end. 

Jonghyun easily finds the space of Dongho’s neck, enveloping him from the back and not realizing the pointed stare from demise’s reaching hands as the bedroom is shut for good.

* * *

“Did you really think,” Dongho whispers into the stuffy space between Jonghyun’s ear and the arm folded upright, “that I was attracted to you?” 

He laughs low, feels the small lobe heat up as he continues laughing.

“You can’t fucking kill me,” Jonghyun grits out. 

He tries to buck upwards, but Dongho’s strong, and his open wound is stronger.

The ties around his wrist are professional, clean and tight. The ropes are stretched taut from the post to his wrists now, once lax from the sweet nothings Dongho had poured into his head yet now tight from an unfamiliar sense of fear.

Dongho leans back, settles his hips until he can feel Jonghyun’s pelvis struggle against him, and smiles.

“I can, and I will.”

He grabs at Jonghyun’s jaw, feeling strong bone and muscle clamp shut against his grip. He digs his fingers in, then, unrelenting yet not livid at Jonghyun who refuses to let go.

“Why are you making this harder for yourself?” Dongho lets go with a terrible sigh. “Here.”

The small incision on his forearm is turned over, blood that was previously pooling up into beads now subject to falling down over the restrained body. 

_Drip._ One lands on Jonghyun’s forehead, and he recoils fast into the pillow, eyes shutting as it stains his forehead.

_Drip._ The next rolls down his cheek, down his ear, and leaves a river that begs Jonghyun’s tongue to seek it out. He doesn’t, his lips tremble and he whines, but Dongho watches, disappointed, as the creature coils into himself.

Jonghyun can only bite on his tongue so much until the blood pooling in his own mouth mixes with the human’s seeping past his weakening lips. 

Dongho’s smile, as smug as the first one he watched writhe under his feet, deepens as he sees a flash of a sharp canine. 

“Jonghyun-ah,” Dongho says, soft and open, “just drink me already.” 

His wrist is pushed onto Jonghyun’s face, a red vision that leaks with what could be heaven’s ichor, and briefly the vampire wonders how strong could _he_ be to resist the sweetest cherry grown on the fairest tree.

It’s an instant process of Jonghyun’s mouth opening wide for the next drop of blood, two heavy beads of black-red liquor rolling down his tongue and sliding deep into his throat. It’s gratification, euphoria, as close to the Gates as Jonghyun could ever be.

Thirsty, so fucking _thirsty,_ Jonghyun swallows and licks over his parched lips, not quite realizing the relapse he’s been forcibly driven into. There’s not much that swims through his mind, though, just the slow drip of merciful, fat drops of blood that creep past his waiting lips. 

“Please,” Jonghyun pleads, wrists no longer straining against the cuffs to break free but to pull the human closer, the bed welcoming his sinking weight. “I need more.”

“And I need you to tell me where he is,” Dongho says. His eyes are earnest, the deal slipping right between them with honest faith, and he smiles. “For more right?”

Jonghyun hesitates, arms stiffening against the bed, and he shuts his eyes. He can close them for all he wants, can try to make himself as small as he wants to, but the scent curls like a twisted aphrodisiac.

“Hyung—” Jonghyun chokes as his vision starts to swim, focusing like a spotlight on the long line deepening on Dongho’s skin.

“Jonghyun.”

Jonghyun grits his teeth, the headache beginning to throb fiercely against his temples. 

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

“Hey,” Dongho snaps with a slight sound, the tendon in his wrist peeking out, “do you think I’m fucking dumb?” 

He sighs. 

“Wonwoo.”

The man sitting in the armchair rises, and when Wonwoo peers over Dongho’s shoulder, Jonghyun hisses, the awful, too pristine smell leering over the human’s body and mixing bitter. Wonwoo only grimly smiles before handing Dongho the roll of bandages.

“You’re useless,” Dongho states. 

Pulling the roll out, the pure red stream of drooling blood is stained in large spots as he wraps himself up.

“What?” Jonghyun asks, eyes wide and lips trembling even in a perpetual scowl. 

Wonwoo scoffs before narrowing his eyes at the trapped creature and baring his own fangs above Dongho’s shoulder. 

“He said,” the younger drawls, body slinking up like he’s Dongho’s shadow, a thin, dark haired man veiled in black leather, “you’re not needed, hyung.”

Dongho watches with an exhale as Jonghyun’s wide eyes become covered in darkness, his beautiful red lips stained with his own curse as Wonwoo descends on the elder. There’s only a sharp yip, a cut off cry for help from the ones who did this to him, and Jonghyun ceases his struggle. 

“Fuck,” Wonwoo curses, pure black running down the corners of his mouth, and he spits harshly on the bed. “That was disgusting.”

Dongho hums as Wonwoo slips by the head of the bed, untying the bonds with care and letting the limp arms come down on white sheets. 

It’s ironic, he laughs. Blood stains everywhere, red and black forever ingrained in cheap threads, and it forms a slow circle right under Jonghyun. A halo of the undead marks his sacrifice, and with the vampire spread out like the cross Dongho would hang him on, Jonghyun should be prayed upon like a fucked object of worship.

Dongho’s bitter to the worshipped, yet he still finds himself reaching for the stained corpse. The relaxed strength, he finds, is such a resemblance that it almost sends him into grief.

“Good boy,” Dongho mutters, carding his fingers through wet hair. 

Wonwoo smiles, preening under the praise that seems ambiguous from Dongho’s downturned lips. 

No matter though, if Dongho comforts the mauled, or if he’s throwing his own twisted verbal bone. When Wonwoo is led by the tight leash of a fresh wound, he licks his dirtied canines and drags the collar on himself. 

After all, he’d rather starve from the endless temptation of the hunter’s fountain of youth than end up staked under Dongho’s crushing, pained hands.

  
  



	4. Deuce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cowboy hat emoji
> 
> oh fuck it's baekron

Dongho finally finds Kwak Aaron months later in the middle of the night alone in the too large world.

Even as every single one of their bodies rot under the ground, and the foul stench has almost escaped Dongho’s nose, Aaron watches the dark horizon slip into dark oblivion with a peace only found after a lifetime of acceptance. 

“I killed them,” Dongho says.

He isn’t sure if he’s proud of it— yet.

Aaron’s back stiffens, only because he twists his heel and faces Dongho head on, yet he isn’t disturbed.

“Are you angry?”

“Should I be?” Aaron asks. 

The question isn’t meant to be answered by Dongho, though. 

“It was you who tried so hard, after all. I couldn’t punish you, my sweet one,” Aaron replies. 

_Couldn’t._

Dongho bites on a remark, something along the lines of pointing out that if Aaron even cared, he wouldn’t have even done what he did. 

“But didn’t you?” He asks. 

Dongho bit his tongue, yet it slips regardless, only because the lone figure standing in front of him wills him to.

“Punish you?” Aaron smiles, pained and hollow, accepting all at once. “I needed to.”

“What you _needed,”_ Dongho shouts, hair flying away from his warm face, arms unraveling to lash out, “was to fucking keep me. Just stay with me, and we could’ve been happy, and you wouldn’t have needed all of those worthless excuses for _me—“_

“I didn’t replace you, no one ever could,” Aaron bites back. His fists curl up within his coat, pale eyes trembling as his heart eagerly defends itself. “But you shouldn’t chase me, not me, not what we had, not what you’ve done.” He scoffs, and the air blows out in a pitiful cloud. “Just fucking look at me.” 

“I only ever wanted you— I _still_ want you. Why can’t you just understand me?” Dongho moves forward. “I don’t care about what you are, Aron-ah, I mean—“ he furiously wipes at his puffy eyes, frustration staining fast on his face, “—look at what I did for you.”

Aaron chuckles first, a slow burst of laughter, and ends with a hysterical bark to the sky, head thrown back and face as pale as the moon creased in amusement.

“Dongho, how long would I have to hide from you to get it?” 

Dongho’s fist balls up at the tiny quirk on Aaron’s face. There’s no laughter on his face, not when he’s serious about it. 

He spent years looking for Aaron, loathing and seething from the “family” his flame had picked up. And now, he stands in front of the old creature who laughs at his frustration bare to the world for once.

“I’ll always find you,” Dongho says, means it with a shudder as Aaron’s eyes narrow harshly like he’s a petulant child. “Stop running from me.”

“I left you.” 

Aaron unsheathes his hands from his thick coat, a front of warmth when Dongho knows every inch of his skin is cold as the mist that rolls off of ice. The human knows it, has felt it for so long that when Aaron’s hands stretch in the open, Dongho’s body begs to roll over for the delicate roll of a wrist.

“I told you I wouldn’t come back for you.”

Aaron’s colder voice isn’t what Dongho knows, however. 

“Little one—“

“I’m _not,”_ Dongho grits his teeth as Aaron’s eyes soften, and he’s not the strong, merciless monster who crawled through Dongho’s window to devour but someone who’s clearly given up onhim, “some stupid fucking kid anymore.”

“So stop searching like one,” Aaron says.

Looking into Dongho’s eyes, even from the distance shared between them, Aaron’s gaze bores into him. It tells him to run, turn around and slip into Wonwoo’s car with Mingi’s blood stained on his palms. 

“I _love_ you, Aron,” Dongho spits. 

The older creature doesn’t move when Dongho moves for him. Deliberate steps walk until he can see the pained curl of his vampire’s mouth tilt.

“You love me, too,” he says, “why—“

“Getaway from me,” Aaron grunts out, head curling away as Dongho slides up smooth and blunt, an inescapable presence that hardens up under his own desperation. “This isn’t what you want.”

“It is—” Dongho snakes a hand behind Aaron’s neck, the same exact fit from when he used to pull his hyung closer for chaste kisses after late night fucks, “—it’s _been.”_

“You’ll never understand,” Aaron chastes. 

His head doesn’t pull away from Dongho’s hold, even when they both know it’d be that easy to break away (and he had, once). Instead, a stray hand curls up around Dongho’s back, easily finding the curve of a familiar body that he could never stay away from. 

Even when he runs, as far away as he could ever stand, Aaron finds himself back at the human’s side, the bell in Dongho’s hand ringing so much he can only curl up and settle seamlessly.

“You don’t either, hyung,” Dongho smiles, chaste, and leans further in. “You miss me, I know you do.” When their noses touch, his reddened nose brushing against Aaron’s, he exhales. “You want it too, right?” 

The slight pressure against his neck has Aaron falling further, deep into the sweet, deep scent of Dongho’s too real, too warm self. With just a small nudge, Aaron inhales deeply, pulling in large breaths of Dongho’s light chuckle and emanating heat.

“Come on,” Dongho whispers, striking deep into a well that’s long been overdrawn, and threads his hands into the thick of his hair. Pulling quick, sharply tugging, and begging for life as he knows it. “Tell me, hyung,” his breath hitches as the night air shifts just for them, and the space between them that’s persisted since separation has completely dissipated, “tell me how much you want me.”

Just as quick as Aaron had fit a hand into his coat, looking as much the man that wandered into his dreams years ago, Dongho finds himself curling backwards as fangs hang dangerously near his neck. Aaron, millennia aged and bearing the weight of his heavy life, still flashes red eyes in excitement as blood travels in a crashing river just underneath his teeth.

“Stop me, Dongho,” Aaron groans, his hand curling behind Dongho’s waist to guide the thin skin even further under his breath. “Please.”

There is only so much Aaron can take, even with his hardened exterior, and the sight of a jumping neck desperately rushing to calm a Dongho’s lightheadedness is almost damning. His fangs tease the skin, though, never digging like heels into ground, even when the skin heats up from right under his nose.

The tip of a blade digs into his side, the sharp silver pointed right underneath his last rib and threatening to plunge if he _doesn’t_ bite into intoxicatingly plump flesh. The familiar weight of a blade in his hands now hangs heavy in his palm, the thin metal feeling like a sinking anchor against his pinky. To save himself, Dongho gleefully knows, would be inexplicable happiness.

“Why, hyung?” Dongho asks. The question rumbles throughout his throat, the rumble of a larynx traveling down the thick column of his neck and ending at his sternum. “All this restraining, but all you want is me _._ ” 

Aaron growls, low and restrained, as Dongho’s breath quickens. The hunter, young and desperate, pants, knowing the rich, oxygenated blood lures the creature’s nose further in and pushes his sanity away.

Dongho would do anything, if only he could keep the simple push and pull of the simplest love of his life.

“Aron,” the blade slides just a centimeter, fraying the pressed white shirt and exposing a single word of black ink, “make me alive.” Dongho whispers against Aaron’s ear, his last plea against humanity. “For us.”

* * *

_“I can’t, my love,” Aaron whispers as night begins to turn light blue. His arm caresses a sweaty shoulder, yet his words feel ice cold. “You know I won’t.”_

_“But I want it,” Dongho says._

_He’s desperate, clinging onto Aaron’s chest as he buries his face into the man’s neck. In there, it’s dark and warm, smells less like manufactured cologne and more sweat and real. If only there were a single heartbeat thumping against Dongho’s own chest, he’d feel normal for once._

_But this isn’t normal, they’re too different even as the same melded figure in bed. Aaron isn’t alive, and thus, Dongho shouldn’t be either._

_“It’s not what you think it’s like, darling.” Aaron pulls him in closer, wrapping around broad shoulders with arms that feel both slight and covering. “Mortality is a blessing. You deserve that.”_

_“Leaving you would be my curse,” Dongho laments._

_Being without Aaron’s touch would leave him useless. That’s why living forever, the scars of his love’s love decorating his skin for eternity, is his prize. To be held in Aaron’s arms so gently yet fiercely would be Dongho’s final satiation._

_Above Dongho’s unknowing stare, above the human’s oblivious, reaching desires, Aaron’s smile churns thick like butter._

_A curse isn’t unfamiliar, and Dongho’s isn’t as bound as he is to its grip, will never will be as long as Aaron’s desire restrains itself right._

_Aaron tightens the hold around his mortal lover’s body, resting Dongho’s nose against his ice skin and wallowing in another fleeting night._

  
  



	5. Game, Set, Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this is the ending
> 
> did you like it this was really interesting to write sometimes cringy oopsssss

The sting brings tears to his eyes, his body more aware of the fangs that pierced him than the struggling thoughts that reach to catch up.

He curses, bitten off yells that are hushed by Aaron’s arms winding around his body. 

Despite his thin build, wiry legs plant firmly in the ground and arms squeeze shut his lungs. Aaron keeps him there, teeth dug into neck and stunted growls purring throughout.

Dongho struggles with the muscles that lock up, the strength under his hands so raw and primal, too unfamiliar to the gentle caresses doled out over his lifetime. He staggers back, struggling harshly as Aaron clings to his waist, and he groans when thin arms trap him with an easy strength.

“Fuck,” Dongho spits. 

His trembling hand can barely hold itself against the white spotting in his vision, and it would be impossible to rip himself away from the vampire’s bite. He’s so weak, from his buckling knees to the beat of his heart as the love he once had blooms with scorching fire.

“Hyung,” he whimpers, “hurts.” His voice is weaker, extremely so, when the rush of _something_ splashes straight within him. “Kwak Aron, please.”

No one answers to his struggling call, and when Dongho falls limp to the ground with gravity’s pull, the shadow of his thorny love hovers in his rose vision.

* * *

_Aaron watches as the moon’s light caresses Dongho’s cheek in a wide palm. His own hands lie under his head, pillowing heavy thoughts as love breathes softly in the night._

_Bruises scatter across Dongho’s neck, shoulders, chest, diving down under the thin covers where he shivers from the flowing curtains’ rush of air. Where they’re purple and marred, red also lies in dried pebbles._

_“Bite me, hyung.”_

_Aaron fists the silk pillowcase when it’s not concern that wells up but the fresh tear of the bite on Dongho’s soft chest._

_No one sweeter, no one more willing has ever been offered, the one who halted his wanderlust with just a sweet command._

_Dongho snuggles up in the pillow, hand staggering on the bed to search beyond the cool silk. Aaron’s colder hands sting worse in the winter night, yet it seems the human shivers pathetically even more when Aaron’s touch isn’t sliding over him._

_“Make me yours, Aron.”_

_The wandering hand is left to resettle again, empty, as the creature remains motionless, gaze fixed on maimed skin and the moon to pat at his heavy back._

_“Turn me,” Dongho had sniffled, right into the crook of Aaron’s neck as he teased lifeless skin with his own hot tongue, “so I can love you forever.”_

* * *

When Dongho wakes up, a peek of an eye that’s disoriented and blurred, he’s not where he was. The open, cold wasteland is gone; silk and wood resurfaces. His head lolls around in a daze, and he catches the white ceiling.

Of course he knows where he is now, even under dizzying influence.

The nights he spent over this old bed are too familiar and too ingrained. When he smooths a palm over the cream silk and grabs at the bunched pillow, the crawl under his skin dissipates into the mattress. 

He feels safer now, right here, with the cold stone walls and the open window.

“Awake?” A voice, low and steady, floats in from a daze.

Still bleary, still unsure yet completely melted into a flow of limbs, Dongho hums.

Footsteps click against the gray, cold floor until an ice hand melds against his forehead. He hisses, almost flinching from the touch, yet the man hushes. 

Just as airy as the curtains billowing into near balloons through the cracked open glass panes, Aaron calms him, “How are you, darling?”

Dongho doesn’t hate the hand that caresses his skin. It’s just been so long since he’s felt this intoxicatingly chill, and now that it’s sliding down his cheek, leaving the most tempting of sensory bites of near frost, how should he feel?

“Fine,” he says instead, only feeling proud as Aaron pleasantly smiles down at him, and settles into the small palm near the corner of his lips.

If Dongho could only see beyond the tunnel constructed out of his desperation and the white sleeve of Aaron’s shirt, he’d watch the numbing of his pale lips as once strawberry red fades out as the sun once did on their freezing night. His heart soars, yet the drag of paper fingers against paper skin is the rarest, previously impossible, sight of all.

“I’m glad,” Aaron says as Dongho stares at him, dependent and hazy, and he musters up the grin that smothers the guilt built up into a flame. “Been a while.”

Dongho nods, rubbing his cheek against Aaron’s hand before taking it into a dry kiss. 

“Feels better,” he mumbles against the dry palm. “Should’ve been like this from the start.”

Aaron swallows as Dongho flits unblinking eyes past sparse eyelashes up at him. They take him in, placing the fairest of values on him and building the pedestal with just a slow flutter. The dark imprint of Dongho’s circles just beneath his fair eyelids etch deep into his skin-- much like his.

“Do you,” Aaron exhales as he runs a thumb over delicate porcelain skin, smooth and cool, “I--”

“Hyung.”

Dongho sits up now, the spin of the room settling into what was once theirs, and pulls Aaron down with a determined strength.

Unexpectedly, Aaron yelps, much like the yip of the canine that once was, as the pull of intense force launches him across the bed. With wide eyes, he watches as Dongho freezes with curled hands. He clings to the bed sheets as the younger flexes his fists.

“What did I just do?”

Aaron can’t escape doe-wide eyes, can’t sink into the mattress as one nor take the dive from the open window. He’s done what he has, and now when snow white asks him what exactly Aaron’s _done,_ he rushes forward.

Instead of the sinking of fangs into Dongho’s neck and the slow fade into pure black, Dongho’s squeezed eyes are still swimming with spots. His back is still against the mahogany headboard, and his arms cling onto bare, thinner arms.

Just as he does, reminiscent of the seasons that have passed since he had, Aaron runs. Not from Dongho, no, never, but from the sin he had created with just a glance at his lovely one.

Dongho sighs harsh into the kiss as his eyes open wide. 

Yet, he doesn’t push. He can’t, he finds, when arms pin him down with the same intensity he knew long ago. He used to ask for them too, for Aaron to keep him still, like a good boy, as they kissed, and Dongho squirmed just from the thrill of being pinned as the willing prey he was.

“Aron,” Dongho cries as he wiggles tight under the man’s hold. His hands come up to hold Aaron’s head, brushing through soft hair as he opens up pitifully as wilted flowers do for their spring bloom.

Soft, pale thighs part eagerly under Aaron, even when he hasn’t even asked them to, and when they do, the elder sighs handsomely. 

“I’ve been so stupid, Dongho,” Aaron finds his words quickly twisting, urging themselves forward without falter. “Why was I running when I could have had you?”

At the base of Dongho’s neck where Aaron slides down towards, the purpling marr of skin, sickly scarred and bruised, Aaron examines the wound with a press of cold, dry lips. It pulses with a phantom touch, only responding to the bitter thickness of Aaron’s own onyx black blood. Its maker, his creator, their _owner._

Aaron curses as Dongho’s expanse of a neck stretches as a valley, his silk black hair spilling onto the pillow just as evening paints over blue sky and silk. It beckons him, a tantalizing stretch of muscles, veins, and pale skin, and he easily dives into quenching waves.

* * *

It’s a gloomy sky once again, and the faintest taps of rain against the now closed window hits like bone thin fingers. Over them, the lace curtain is pulled tight and settled prettily over the wooden frame.

They’re locked in now, the two of them who move as easily as tide and lunar against each other. The pit pat of rain and rumbling thunder is shut out, the beating of their struggling hearts and low grunts bounce against cool stone walls.

“Aron, Aron,” Dongho squeaks as he’s pushed up against the headboard, arms locked right around the man’s back. His hips stutter in their short movements, just as his throat closes in its pitchy cries. “Feels good, hyung, _ah.”_

“Yes, love?” Aaron grunts. Sweat rolls down his face, dripping cold against Dongho’s arched chest. 

His hands push open marked thighs, spreading muscles wide until the strain of muscles rivals the tightness surrounding him and Dongho yelps from the 

“Dongho,” Aaron’s voice stretches thin, much like the pliant body pulled to pieces right beneath him. “I missed you so much, darling.”

He runs fingers up to flexing calves, pulling one onto his shoulder and nuzzling against it with the calmness not alike his determined, piercing eyes.

“Missed your pretty face crying on my bed,” Dongho gasps as he’s bent little by little, muscles pulling like dough, “missed your fucking wailing stretched tight around my cock.”

Dongho whines with a closed mouth, the tears in his eyes lining up as rolling raindrops do against the glass pane.

“I—“ Dongho hiccups as Aaron finally meets him on the pillow, his thighs bent towards his heaving chest, “—I miss you, _hn,_ still, hyung.” 

A sloppy kiss parts Aaron’s grinning mouth, sharp teeth struggling to nip at the elder’s accepting lips. Thrusts are rushed, quick bursts of speed and ecstasy that have Aaron groaning into a freezing embrace. 

All around them, cold nips in quick bites against their heels, their hands, their sunken yet lovingly vibrant eyes. Even as Dongho is overwhelmingly stuffed with a fullness he had been hunting for for so long, the sudden brush of fingers against his pale length and the shedding of his own pleasurable tears chill to the core.

Aaron’s hand slips between his, and their fingers intertwine in a frost. Dongho burrows into it, the cushioned bed and the curl of Aaron’s fingers between his.

To be cold, so cold the explosiveness of their orgasms fizzle out as quickly as ice cold waves swirling in the north, and to revel in it is what Dongho has anticipated since he learned breathing was but a pull of Aaron’s love inside him. 

With that, Aaron’s hand holding his and hips pushing hard against his bent legs, Dongho cries out into the room with a relaxed heave and an eternally settled heart.

* * *

_“And what if I was ever gone from your side, little one?”_

_Aaron’s empty voice asks the open balcony window on a gloomy day. Tiny raindrops splash against the glass and his nose._

_Dongho shuffles in bed, reaching out a hand, and finds Aaron’s bare back._

_“You’re leaving already?”_

_Aaron hisses as Dongho runs a teasing fingernail against the red scratches running down his back._

_Take it, Dongho had panted in the middle of their open mouthed kiss as he dug blunt nails into a porcelain canvas, feel my mark, hyung. Aaron could only groan and tremble between his human’s thighs as the pain burnt his desire to roaring heights._

_It throbs now, sweat having irritated his skin, and with every movement, including the twisting of his back as he turns to face Dongho’s waiting eyes, a jolt of pain echoes._

_“I’m wondering.”_

_Dongho pouts._

_“Don’t joke around like that,” the younger says, grinning as Aaron readily dives back to his arms and the comfort of his caress. “I’ll really turn into a bad person, hyung.”_

_“You?”_

_Aaron wraps his arms around a thick torso, licking a wet line up Dongho’s salty neck before pressing a kiss._

_“You know I’d do anything to have you,” Dongho promises before melting against the bed and letting his love suck the deepest of purples on his bruised skin._

_The hitches in his breath aren’t shameful, they never are when it’s Aaron that makes him feel so good, they just proves how good it feels to simply be lauded over. Dongho lies there, and he knows with the most pleasurable of smiles, that Aaron is forever his._

_“You can’t run from me, Aron-ah.” Blood pumps hot under his skin, cheeks become rosy, and Dongho pinkens at just the sight of the elder’s face at one with his body. “Even eternity can’t ever take you away from me.”_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> twt @ teacuptigr


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